If It Isn't Her
by ProfessionalxDaydreamer
Summary: I didn't really notice when everything else disappeared; but as far as I'm concerned, if it isn't Her, it isn't here. MoJo oneshot, rated T. R&R please.


**A/n: So, I'm not so sure about this, but I've had it written forever, and I'm posting it anyways, because...I think I speak for all of us MoJo fans when I say that we need more fics! :) My first songfic, set to "If It Isn't Her" by Ani Difranco. Yes, it's yet ANOTHER MoJo meeting fic. (Maureen's POV, by the way.)**

If It Isn't Her

I went to the random, anonymous bar that night as if I were starting fresh. Too many memories from the Life Cafe, I suppose; Mark and I and all our friends getting drunk. They were fun times, don't get me wrong, but sometimes a girl needed a break from her friends who were _always there. _

The bar was called _Grapefruit_. Who names a bar "Grapefruit," anyway? Not that it mattered much to me. All I wanted was a few drinks, some bad 80's music, and a corner all to myself.

I approached the bar, ordering a Rum and Coke from the blonde bartender. She handed me my drink, winking, and I almost laughed. _Yeah, right. _

I found a small table in the corner, next to the jukebox that was, indeed, blaring something that was wildly popular when I was in high school.

After a few sips of the drink, I began to feel warmer. Fuck Mark, and Roger and his stupid needles. And April. Fuck her, too, while we're at it, I thought, and not in the way that I'd always secretly wanted to. I, Maureen Johnson, could have fun in a random bar by myself on a Saturday night.

Soon after that thought left my head, the obnoxious bell on the door tinkled, signaling that there was a new victim entering the bar.

I glanced up out of curiosity, a shock running through my body at what I saw. A woman, maybe mid-twenties, was making her way to the bar, a confident swagger in her walk.

I unconsciously raised an eyebrow. There was something completely intangible about her. I found myself licking my lips out of instinct. The woman had her back to me, so I took the time to catch flies, my mouth agape, while staring at her. She had long, graceful limbs, like a dancer's. Her skin was the color of Cafe Au Lait- my favorite drink- and I couldn't help but notice her tight butt. She looked like she worked out by the defined muscles in her arms.

Though mildly butch, the woman had something distinctly feminine about her. Medium-length corkscrew curls reached her shoulders, and fell across the side of her face like a curtain.

Cute, in a way. But more beautiful, or sexy, than anything.

I mentally slapped myself, wondering why I was drooling in such an obvious manner over this woman. It wasn't something I'd usually do. Sure, I had always been attracted to women, and had entertained several. But there was something so- so- genderless? About this woman. Not that she was butch or femme or anything, but that she simply looked like a person. Which was refreshing.

I looked down at my drink, assuming that she must have been there with someone else- or meeting someone- but nobody came. Five minutes passed, and she sat at the bar, her high heels clicking to some unknown beat in her head.

_standing like john wayne_

_she is full framed_

_she is center stage_

_and my imagination is_

_rattling in its cage_

_I didn't really notice_

_when everything else disappeared_

_but as far as I'm concerned_

_if it isn't her_

_it isn't here_

After another five minutes, still no one came through the door into the sleepy, surprisingly dead bar, to claim her. No man, I thought, though it seemed like that sort of thing wouldn't suit her. She looked smart. And, lucky for me, no woman.

Finally, I rose, drink in hand, approaching the bar. "Can I get a refill?" I asked the blonde bartender, who had been hovering over the beautiful stranger for a good ten minutes. It seemed that I wasn't the only one smitten by her.

The bartender cleared her throat, finally coming out of her stupor to look at me. "Right," she coughed, reaching behind her to find the rum. The woman gazed intently at her wine glass.

_Wine, _I thought. It was an odd choice for a drink at a bar on a Saturday night.

The bartender set my drink in front of me. I gave her a tight smile. She looked at me, looked at the woman, and quickly moved away, occupying herself with something else.

"Hi," I said to the woman. She looked up distractedly, her face clearing as she saw me. She smirked. I noticed her staring after a few seconds, and I grew oddly uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

"What's your name?" I asked, looking into those chocolate brown eyes.

She cleared her throat. "Joanne," she said, her voice sounding rich, with a bit of gravel to it.

"Maureen." I held my hand out for her to shake, and she took it. During the split second that our hands touched, I felt the softness of her fingers and the unexpected spark that came from the feeling.

She looked at her hand, slowly taking it back. "So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" I tried, not knowing what to say.

"Waiting." She simply said with a small nod. I raised an eyebrow, not saying anything. I took a sip of my drink, looking down at the fake-wooden top of the bar for comfort.

"Who are you waiting for?" I asked, finally.

"Not sure yet." She turned more in her chair, so that she was facing me. I took it as a good sign.

"Hey, have I seen you somewhere before? You look familiar." Joanne asked finally, furrowing her brows. Her nostrils flaired slightly at this, and I found it oddly endearing.

"I don't know," I said honestly.

Twenty minutes later, I knew that Joanne Jefferson was an up-and-coming lawyer, she lived on the West Side of SoHo with two cats, and she could definitely hold her Merlot.

Another awkward silence permeated the air between us. Every second that ticked by made it even more awkward, but Joanne seemed to be relaxed.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" I blurted out, as smoothly as I could manage.

Joanne gave a tiny, almost unnoticeably toss of her head from side to side. She smiled, as if she knew something I didn't. "No."

I nodded, satisfied. "You don't look like you would."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? What makes you think that?" I shrugged.

"You just seem like a smart woman, Joanne." She tilted her head slightly. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," I said, pursing my lips. "I'd say it means that you look like the kind of woman who isn't into all of that."

She chuckled. "You're a good judge of character." After a pause, she spoke. "What about you? Boyfriend?"

I groaned. I was about to say no, but I looked at her, realizing that somehow she'd be able to tell if I were lying. "Unfortunately, yes." I replied. "I'm so over...well...men!" I sighed dramatically.

"Hmm." She reached over, closing the few inches that separated the two of us. Her hand reached up, brushing some of my hair away from my face. "I know the feeling."

Our eyes met, and I felt another jolt of electricity pass through me.

_she says do I know you?_

_I say well, no, not biblically_

_but I've been waiting for you come_

_and talk to me_

_I have been playing_

_too many of those boy-girl games_

_she says honey, you are safe here_

_this is a girl-girl thing_

"...And I just feel like his mother! But at the same time, when I'm not making sure he's got his basic needs taken care of, he just takes off. Doesn't give me the attention I need. Not to mention," I drew in a breath, "he's terrible in bed."

Joanne raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

I nodded. "He hardly ever wants to fuck, and when he does, it's like...nothing. I feel nothing."

She nodded, her lips curving upward slightly into a knowing smirk. "Does he ever do this?" She leaned in, and time stood still. I felt her warm, sweet breath on my lip. Her mocha hand wrapped around my neck, supporting me. Another hand tangled itself in my hair. Our lips finally met, and I had a small heart attack as I felt emotions unexpectedly course through me. Her tongue gently entered my mouth, urging mine into a dance.

Aside from the emotions, the physical pleasure of what she was doing caught me off guard. I reluctantly pulled away after a few seconds, almost gasping for air.

She smiled slyly. "You look like you haven't been kissed like that in a long time." I nodded, realizing how true it was, as she placed small, feather-light kisses on my neck. Her tongue darted out quickly, coming into contact with the skin on my neck, and I squeaked, pulling away to catch my breath.

She laughed at me.

My lips met hers again, recreating that same feeling.

_I told him I loved him_

_so he thought I'd roll over and play dead_

_he was god's gift to hypocrisy_

_with weak knees and a big fat head_

_she says honey don't tell me_

_that old story_

_you are boring me_

_just tell me do you like me_

_tell me what you're gonna do_

_now that you're free_

_"_You want to get out of here?" Joanne said after we pulled apart. I noticed a faint blush on her cheeks, feeling a small victory at having made her blush.

"Yeah," I answered without hesitation. We looked each other in the eyes, and I understood that she wanted me to go back to her apartment.

"Do you come here a lot, Joanne, and pick up women?" I couldn't help but ask, in a light tone, of course. She noticed the seriousness of the question, however, and shook her head firmly. "It's a general rule for me not to."

"Oh." I said, realizing that I must have misinterpreted what her eyes had said. She chuckled at my expression, reaching for my hand and interlacing our fingers together.

"But there are exceptions to every rule," she added as we both stood up, exiting the small, dark bar together, hand in hand.

_standing like john wayne_

_she is full framed_

_she is center stage_

_and my imagination_

_is rattling in its cage_

_I didn't really notice_

_when everything else disappeared_

_but as far as I'm concerned_

_if it isn't her_

_it isn't here_

_as far as I'm concerned_

_if it isn't her_

_it isn't here_

**Le Sigh. I had to do it, I really did. This song just reminds me of them. It's a really great song, by a really great folksinger. By the way.**


End file.
